Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Eddie Berman
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Edward Lynch Berman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eddie Berman
Producer
Pierre de Reeder
Mixing Engineer
Greg Reely
Engineer
Lyrics
From the echoes
Of the interstate
I locked the windows
Boarded up the shades
Then I was in the middle
Alone in the river
As we all rushed by
And in our rearranging
We’re the same but always changing
So I shut my eyes
In the silence
Of that holy cell
In all directions
I began to swell
It nearly did my head in
As it rose into the heavens
For it find its worth
And balancing the rising
My feet broke through the tiling
For to feel the earth
I could’ve been an artist
And I could’ve been a saint
Instead I’m gonna the match
And I’m gonna be its flame
And as the roots spread
Something sang so sweet
In a language
That wasn’t meant for me
But even if I had heard
I wouldn’t say a damn word
That’s blasphemy
It’s vicious and it’s vulgar
To tell ‘em what they told ya
In times like these
I could’ve been an artist
And I could’ve been a saint
Instead I’m gonna the match
And I’m gonna be its flame
Written by: Edward Lynch Berman